Frozen Heather
by Mo Fraser
Summary: BotFA Spoilers. Movie Universe. Major Character Death. Fili's last moments on Raven Hill in the 'Battle of the Five Armies' told from his perspective.


**A/N: **This was written following one of the times that I went to see The Hobbit: BotFA. I knew what was coming, but I still cried. Those hapless dwarves have been my companions throughout my life.

I do not have the dialogue from the film memorized – yet – so there will be errors. I have tried to recreate the words to the best of memory.

This story was written while listening to Adele's Skyfall, and The Last Goodbye, Courage and Wisdom, The Return Journey, and Ironfoot from the The Hobbit: BotFA - Special Edition Soundtrack.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Middle Earth Enterprises.

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**Frozen Heather**

"_He asked for us to stand and fight;  
He asked to shed our blood  
To fight for Erebor and for him  
On this day… in the sun."_

"You search the lower levels," I order my younger brother as he tries to push past me to search the upper levels of the tower.

We lock eyes for a moment and I give him a small nod of encouragement.

Noise of movement had come from the stairs that led upwards. We should not split up, I knew that. But, if I can, I will protect my baby brother. It is not that I do not trust in his abilities, but his skill lies with ranged weaponry. He has progressed much since our years training, and I knew that he was more than capable of handling himself. I knew he could handle himself when it came to a fight, but it was still my job to protect him from all danger. It had been that way since his birth. I was not only his brother, but his protector, his bodyguard, and his friend. Thorin had told me to be as such the night that Kíli was born. He said that it was the sacred duty of all older brothers. He had been as such to his brother, Frerin and his sister, Dís, from the time that they had been brought into this world. He told me that Balin had that same duty to Dwalin. At the time I could hardly imagine Dwalin ever being small and in need of protection. Even today, 77 years later, that imagining was difficult, but I could see the interactions between Balin and Dwalin mirrored in Kíli and me.

Protecting my brother came before everything else. If he had chosen to defy Thorin's orders not to fight I would have followed without a second thought.

I watch my brother's back as he disappears down the dark passageway. I take a deep breath and went to tread my own path. Dread rose in the pit of my stomach; something about this whole situation did not feel right. I would give anything to have Kíli and Dwalin at my side. But, if I was to die today then I was enough to cause my family grief and loss, and if I lived I would receive more glory. Glory was not that important to me, but it made my uncle proud. That made the trouble worth some of the effort. Kíli's safety would always come first; he would come before my uncle.

I creep slowly up the steps and down the halls; trying to remember everything that Bilbo had told me about sneaking along swiftly and silently. I freeze when I hear drums and see shadows on the wall in front of me. Heat spreads through my body as my heart beat speeds up.

I turn quickly back to return to my uncle, but I will retrieve Kíli first. There were shadows behind me as well. I turn to run, forgetting all secrecy. Orcs swarm into the hallway. I draw my second sword and begin to fight them. Darkness creeps into the corners of my vision. The bloodlust was beginning.

The cramped hallway makes it difficult to use my two swords fully. Something was not right. The orcs did not seem to be trying to kill. Cold spread through my veins. I begin to fight more desperately. Whatever they wanted me for could not be a good thing. I refuse to give myself up to be tortured or to become Azog's pawn.

One of my swords becomes caught in an orc's skull. The mere moments it takes for me to rip it free was all it takes for me to be overwhelmed. The orcs' hands were all over me pulling at my clothes and hair, removing my weapons. Desperation and sickness wash over me. I am fighting desperately – kicking and swinging my fists – trying my best to free myself from their clutches.

The world flashes! Then it dims as I was hit over the head with a club. My limbs go weak. I can not raise my fists to even attempt to get free. I am roughly grabbed and dragged. My head is bouncing on the steps as I am dragged up stairs.

The cold winter sun bursts into my vision. And there are no more foul hands on my body. I struggle to my hands and knees before vomiting. My vision is swimming. It is just like that time Kíli and I had a fight and my head had been slammed into our stone table. Thorin had not let me sleep that night. Kíli's tear stained face appears in front of me; he is apologizing profusely. I remember that my mother had been trying to drag him from the room and little Kíli fought her every step of the way. I can not remember what we had been fighting about. All that matters now is my little brother.

A hand grabs my hair forcing me to look up. My brother's wavering visage is replaced with the all too real face of Azog.

"Dwarf-scum," he hisses.

"Filth!" I spit out with as much contempt as I can muster.

He laughs then. It was a cruel laugh that makes my chilled body ache with an emotion that I have not felt so strongly in many years. I feel fear. My stomach twists.

Azog's fist tightens in my hair. He jerks sharply; throwing me to the ground. I expect him to let go, but he does not. He is dragging me across the stone by my hair. I kick, struggling to get free. If I did not feel so sick and weak I might have been able to free myself. I feel burning fury at my weakness mixing with my cold fear and curdling together.

Azog is shouting then his grip shifts from my hair to my neck. His grip tightens and pulls me forwards and upwards. I am dangling over the frozen river. I struggle for breath. I know that this is the end. My life flashes through my mind: the night that Kíli was born and first placed in my young, trembling arms; our first altercation – it had been over who got the final seed cake – our mother singing to us as she brushed our hair and put us to bed. Kíli was there for everything. During this whole nasty, quest business I have watched my brother mature and grow. Now he will be Thorin's heir and he is more than worthy of the title.

I hope that the battle will be won, and that Thorin will find peace among his kith and kin even if I am not among those who survive.

But for Kíli – my bother – I want so much more. My young, headstrong, foolish, but much loved baby brother, for him I wish everything. I wish that he comforts our mother and uncle, and, then, to, himself, grieve, and then to heal. I want him to find love even if it is with that elf maid that so enraptures him, to have dwarflings and to remember me fondly. I hope that my death will not destroy him, because I love him and the rest of our kin dearly. I know Erebor will thrive under his rule and under the rule of his sons who will succeed him in the end. I hope he does not die today in battle. I hope he never dies in battle like has happened to much of our family. I hope he dies surrounded by generations of his children at the age of 270. 200 years of a happy life with love and family is all I want for my dearest brother.

Azog is speaking to my uncle, but I cannot hear the words through the pounding of blood of my ears and my own breath that fills my senses. I see my uncle and my cousin, Dwalin, far below me by the frozen river. This day is frozen in so many ways. After today my mother may never smile again. My brother's heart will be broken and frozen for a time. My heart and that of so many others will fall silent today; our hearts will no longer beat; our flesh will cool and take upon the chill of death and the afterlife. Sweat will freeze on frozen warriors' unseeing eyes, eyes that gaze no longer upon Middle Earth.

Much pain will follow this day when our bodies lay in frozen heather. But, if we lose and any of our kin survive, they will beg our dear prince to let use try again. Our hopes and dreams could be shattered and our futures in the wind, and still we would beg to try again. Thorin is the king that we will follow until our deaths. I will die not only for my king, but for my beloved uncle.

I gather my breath and shout with as much strength as I can muster, "Run!"

Pain came then as Azog's sword rips through me. I know it will fade if given time, as all wounds do, but today I have no time. No time to say farewell, only time to give them a chance. I hope they will take it and live to fight another day. I hope they will not avenge me - as is their right. Fight again another day, but not this day. Not this day blinded by sorrow, bloodlust, and rage.

The pain radiates through my body, but I feel cold and numb. Mercifully, this will not be a slow death. Regret fills me and tears burn my eyes that I will not live long enough to tell my brother to go to Thorin and run; to tell him that I love him more than life itself.

The pain in my neck ceases as Azog the Defiler releases me. I am falling. I can hear my brother's anguished scream of denial and pain. _Do not worry, my brother, you will heal and we will meet once again in the Halls of Waiting with all of our forebears. _All pain is gone and I can no longer hear my dear younger brother's cries. Above me is the blue sky with white snowflakes drifting across my vision. That snow against an azure sky is the last thing I see of this world. The mist of this world is already rolling back to reveal a swift sunrise and green fields.

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**A/N: **It is not known for real (from Tolkien's pen) what happens to dwarves when they die. Elves believe that dwarves return to the stone from whence they came. Dwarves believe that they go to the Halls of Waiting (The Halls of Mandos), to a special space set aside from them until after the final battle when they will help Mahal (Khuzdul for Maker, the Dwarves' name for Aulë) rebuild the world. Thorin's final words in The Hobbit (book) make that much clear.

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